


i want to watch you break

by ThatPawnbrokersShopAroundTheCorner



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4791167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatPawnbrokersShopAroundTheCorner/pseuds/ThatPawnbrokersShopAroundTheCorner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Doctor Lecter,” Dolarhyde says. His voice still betrays awe and respect as he moves away, back towards Will, holding out his gun. “I have long dreamt of this moment – of finally meeting you and being able to show you what I'm capable of.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i want to watch you break

* * *

 

Hannibal falls like a puppet with its strings cut loose when the glass shatters, and Dolarhyde strides in. Will can tell that this is no longer just a man, but one with dragon wings flaring from his back.

He steps back a bit, but Dolarhyde merely points his gun. “Don't try to run. I will catch you.”

Will holds back a bitter laugh. It's not like he was going to. He has no reason to. But that's not even at the forefront of his mind now, no. As he glances down at Hannibal, lying on the floor, he finds himself – yet again – reminded of how his thoughts have always been centred on one thing only.

Dolarhyde follows his gaze, and his eyes light up – Will marvels at that, wondering how different the Dragon is from all those other monsters whose lips would have curved to a sinister smile by now.

But Dolarhyde is merely quietly malevolent as he walks over to Hannibal, tugs at the collar of his sweater and starts dragging him. This earns him a groan from Hannibal, and blood spills on the floor as Hannibal is pushed into an empty chair.

Will considers a course of action, but Dolarhyde is swift as he pulls out some rope from his pockets and binds Hannibal's wrists. Will can't even pull out his gun, because Dolarhyde's gaze constantly switches back and forth between him and Hannibal. 

(And Hannibal's eyes tell him to wait, to linger, to consider.)

“Doctor Lecter,” Dolarhyde says. His voice still betrays awe and respect as he moves away, back towards Will, holding out his gun. “I have long dreamt of this moment – of finally meeting you and being able to show you what I'm capable of.”

Hannibal's expression doesn't shift, and his voice remains pleasantly polite. “I am honoured by this, Francis. I, too, am pleased to finally meet you face to face: it's been very interesting to accompany you throughout this great journey.”

Will's hand relaxes. He lets it drop and wonders if maybe he'll be able to buy some time– after all, Hannibal loves the game as much as he enjoys the chase. And it's entirely likely that he'll engage in chit-chat with Dolarhyde before the Dragon fully comes out to play.

It's probably going to be like this, Will thinks, even though he would much more prefer a swift end to all of this (this violence, this ugliness –)

“You have been a great mentor, Doctor Lecter,” Dolarhyde continues, moving closer to Will, dangerously closer. “Not only have you taught me how to finally embrace my true side, but you've also made me stronger than the Dragon. You've taught me –“ He pauses, his face showing a flash of regret then, and Will wonders if it's about Reba, if it's about the ruined shot of happiness that would have never been his.

(Will would understand this so very well: that's what he and Molly were about, too – a chance, a desperate attempt to pretend to be normal. Doomed to fail from the very start.)

“You should not regret, Francis. It merely spoils what you've accomplished, and you have done a lot: you have come out victorious, and you should embrace it, celebrate the fruits of your hard work.”

And Francis – not the Dragon, not even Dolarhyde – but Francis, the man, the victim lets out a strained sound, and it's too fast, too soon, but he grabs Will by the throat, flicking out a knife.

Will reaches for his gun, but Dolarhyde grabs it, tossing it to the floor and then buries his knife into Will's cheek, pushing the blade in, right through skin, slicing down before pulling it out.

It hurts, it burns. Will screams out in pain, and tries to break free, but Dolarhyde holds him tight, and –

Hannibal’s eyebrows are knotted, and his breathing has stilled.

Will wants to move away, but he can't; he's powerless, a bird trapped within the arms of a beast. And so he writhes and struggles, but the Dragon merely grips his wrist and pushes him down on his knees, and Will –

He sees it; he begins to understand, even before the Dragon starts to talk.

“I am not just going to change you, Doctor Lecter – no.” Will feels the bile rise to his throat, but he can't do anything, not with the other man pinning him down like this, not when Hannibal is staring at him like this.

Will wants to tell Hannibal to look away, but the horror he feels at the sound of clothes ripping renders him still. He doesn't know; he merely feels like he's been whisked away to an alternate reality where nightmares give birth to reality. 

He doesn't want to think about it, so he tries to close his eyes. Enough of his skin has been exposed to make him shiver. He takes a deep breath, swallows and tells himself that Dolarhyde is merely bluffing. He wouldn't do this. He wouldn't offer a man to the Dragon.

But then he hears a belt being unbuckled, and feels cold, calloused hands grip his hips.

Hannibal isn't talking, but Will can hear the chair creak, can hear grunts and groans, and he knows – he doesn't want to open his eyes – but he knows that Hannibal is fighting.

(And he wants Hannibal to win; he wants him to save –)

“I will tarnish Will Graham for you just like you ruined Reba for me,” Dolarhyde says as he cuts through Will's thoughts, his voice solemn, cruel. “I will take him away from you before changing you. I will make you feel despair.”

Despite himself, Will opens his eyes, staring right at Hannibal. He wants to tell him things, wants to reassure him, but no words come out, nothing does. Because that's precisely when Francis finally dies, and the Dragon takes over.

Will can't even prepare himself for it: the burning, tearing pain of the Dragon entering him, roughly pushing inside.

(Hannibal's eyes narrow then, and Will sees it: the rage there, the pain – the sheer powerlessness.)

And so Will doesn't close his eyes, but grits his teeth as the Dragon begins to fuck him, thrusting in with no finesse or consideration. It's worse than anything he ever imagined, but he won't break. He won't let it. He can't.

Because he needs Hannibal strong, undefeated, and so Will has to remain the same. That's why as the Dragon shoves in harder, tearing through Will, making him bleed, Will meets Hannibal's gaze unflinching, trying to tell him that he's fine.

The Dragon can't have him. Won't have him. Because he's Hannibal's and Hannibal's only. They need to defeat him, and they will. Him and Hannibal.

It works, Will thinks through a haze of something almost like numbness. Hannibal's eyes don't lose their hardness, but the light returns, and he's stopped tugging. Ever so slightly, he nods at Will.

And Will realises.

Francis is still thrusting, but Will knows. He knows.

Another beast has just come free.

  
***

Follow us on [tumblr](http://themongoosedance.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
